The Thespian Spy

by Cheri Champagne

  With a secret smile, Mary placed her hand in his and allowed him to aid her descent, not caring a whit that the rain pelted down on them in sheets.

  The air, ordinarily thick with coal smoke, now held a dense humidity, as well. The day was warm for early June, the combination creating a damp stickiness between her heavily padded breasts. Yet still, her lips curved up in a private grin as she recalled the past hours in the hack with Gabriel.

  They had been ensconced in their own little pocket of heaven, tattered and jostling though it was.

  Gabe then pulled their sopping trunks from the back of the hackney and flipped Richie a coin, which the driver caught in the air and placed quickly in his pocket. Mary turned toward the tavern, a familiar haunt for Hydra’s band of spies, and prepared to bring her trunks down the alley and into the back door, which led to the hidden room which they always had reserved.

  * * *

  The hair on the back of Gabe’s neck rose, instinct of old catching hold of him, as Mary strolled down the narrow alley. He quickly pressed a hand to his outer coat pocket and squeezed. A small yelp told him he had been correct.

  In one smooth motion, Gabe turned and knelt before an urchin boy scarcely more than five years old, his hair, face, and clothing unclean, his eyes filled with fear, and his features gaunt and dripping with rainwater.

  “You will find no coin in there, lad,” he said, affecting his practiced English accent.

  “I aint done noffin, mister!” The child cried, his face wreathed in horror.

  “I will not have you punished,” he said in as soothing a voice as he could manage. “Where are your parents?”

  “Me mum’s a whore an’ I aint got no pa. Mum don’t want me ‘round.” The boy swiped at his dripping nose with the sleeve of his coat. “But I c’n take care o’ meself, aye.” He blinked rapidly to clear his eyes of water.

  “I am sorry to hear that, and I’m sure you can.” He loosened his grip on the child’s hand, lost in thought for a moment. “I have an offer for you.”

  The child turned his face up at Gabe in hesitation. “Wot kind o’ ffer?”

  “An offer. What is your name, lad?”

  “Mary, mister,” the child said in a small voice.

  Gabe’s eyebrows rose. A girl! “I beg your pardon, Mary, I did not mean to offend.”

  “It aint noffin.” The girl shrugged.

  “My lady friend’s name is Mary, as well.”

  The girl looked over Gabe’s shoulder, presumably at Mary. Gabe kept his eyes on the hungry child.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes,” Gabe affirmed. “She has been my friend since I was a child not much older than you.” He smiled down at the little girl. “Now, I have a quid for you if you do me one favour.”

  The girl’s eyes lit with greed and worry simultaneously. “Wot faver?” Water sprayed from the child’s lips as she spoke.

  “I will tell you a direction. If you go to a man’s house and tell him I am waiting here for him, I will send along a note that says he has to pay you one quid.” He held up a hand to halt her agreement. “If you return with the man, I will give you a hot meal, two quid, and an opportunity for you to go to school.”

  The girl gazed at him skeptically. “No man gives away all that fer noffin, sir. Not even no toff.”

  “Ask my lady friend,” Gabe gestured toward where Mary stood smiling at the child. “She went to the same school.”

  “You one o’ them wot teaches at a skool?”

  “No.” Gabe grinned. “But a very good friend of mine is.”

  The girl nodded, swiping at her nose once more. “Okay, sir. Where’s the man wot you need me t’ talk to?”

  * * *

  Sir Charles Bradley placed a hand at little Mary’s drenched back and led her through the side door to the tavern, through the hall, and directly into the back meeting room.

  “Do not be afraid, Mary,” he soothed, removing his sopping hat from his head.

  “I aint afraid o’ noffin,” she said, though Charles knew the sound of fear when he heard it.

  The door opened and both Gabe and Mary stood from their seats near the fire. Charles ushered little Mary past the trunks, which sat on the floor near the entrance, and directed her into the centre of the comfortingly familiar room.

  Tension hit him like a wave as he neared his two agents. Something has happened. Something of a sexual nature, he would wager. It was about damned time.

  “Welcome back,” he said jovially.

  Gabe sketched a short bow and Mary curtsied prettily with mumbles of “sir” and “Hydra.”

  With a smile, Gabe greeted the child. “I owe you two quid, Mary. And a place in a very special school.” He raised an eyebrow at Charles.

  “Yes,” Charles agreed.

  “I need to speak with my friend here,” Gabe continued. “Why do we not see about getting you that hot meal that I promised and then we will discuss it?”

  Little Mary gave him a cherub smile as Gabe led her from the room, calling for a servant to assist.

  Charles sat on the under-stuffed armchair, stretching his legs out before him and crossing them at the ankles. He was eager to return home to his very pregnant wife and adopted son. Not only was their meeting important, however, but he was damned curious about what had happened on their assignment. He tossed his hat atop the occasional table at his elbow.

  Gabe returned to the room and sat across from Charles on the settee next to Mary.

  “Well?” Charles prompted. “Shall you start with whether or not you retrieved the documents and move on to what the devil happened to Gabe’s face?”

  “We have the documents,” Gabe said, removing the sheets of parchment from an inner pocket and placing them on the table between them. “But there is much more that we need to discuss than just these documents.”

  Charles examined the documents and placed them in his own pocket before he gestured them on. “Proceed.”

  Gabe cringed as he pointed at the damage done to his face. “Lady Kerr is to blame for my present state, sir.”

  “I apologize for interrupting.” Mary leaned forward eagerly. “Hydra, Gabriel is in danger of compromising his identity. Lady Kerr knows his face and suspects his true purpose of attending the house party. I managed to release him from capture in such a way that Lady Kerr would not implicate me, but as she and her men remain alive, Gabriel is in danger.”

  “What do you propose, Mary?” Charles asked. “I require him for this assignment, and for several afterward. Shall we change his face?”

  Mary shook her head, an auburn lock of hair falling out of her loosened, damp coiffure. “I propose an alternate plan. Mr. Spencer has a history in the Americas with his uncle. I propose that we send him back, then Gabe and I go into hiding until the ball at Lord Sheffield’s house in town on Thursday.”

  “Perhaps you had better explain from the beginning.”

  Charles listened as the two spoke of their assignment, of the known traitors involved in this scheme, the potential for others, of their overhearing a discussion and the time and place of the traitors’ rendezvous, of the exchange of the documents, Gabe’s capture, and their eventual escape.

  At the mention of Lord Anthony Boxton, Charles felt a surge of anger rush through him. The scurrilous dog had taken part in the very near ruination of his sister, Anna’s, virtue and the near snuffing of her very life. The bastard was evil toward women and very much deserved to be removed to the Americas as his friend had been.

  Charles ran his fingers through his short blond locks in agitation. “Well, Mary, you must attend that ball. Gabe, you will take her as the coachman and I will ensure Stevens attends in Lord Hale’s entourage.”

  “It isnae safe for her to go alone, Hydra!” Gabe exclaimed.

  “She will be safe enough. All my men are on assignments, recovering from their injuries, or damned well missing,” Charles growled. “I cannot contact anyone else, let alone send them on this assignment. If, however,
someone comes to me with a report of a completed assignment, I will add them to your party.”

  Charles’ gaze switched between Gabe and Mary’s uneasy miens, a grin on his lips. “You both did an excellent job recovering the documents. I am sorry for your injuries, Gabe. I have Dr. Claridge in town examining my wife presently, if you would like me to send him to examine you.”

  Gabe shook his head. “Nae, sir.”

  “Very well.” Charles leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, then clasped his hands together. “I gather from what you have said that Mary is the target of the other men’s attentions. As much gratification as I would find in simply putting Boxton and Reddington on a ship and sailing them off to the Americas, I must discover who else is involved in this ring of traitors. Mary will attend the ball—armed, naturally—and cozy up to them. Watch them. When they leave the ball, alert Stevens and Gabe and discretely follow them to the rendezvous location. Take care to be close enough to hear them, but far enough to not be caught.”

  “Yes, sir,” they both said in unison.

  “Because of your potentially compromised identity, Gabe, you will remain in hiding until the time of the ball. Mary, if you wish to avoid contact with the traitors, you are welcome to remain in hiding until Thursday, as well. I have my alternate town house set up for your needs should you wish to use it. Harris and Barrows are both still in recovery there.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “In the mean time, I will purchase passage for Mr. Anthony Spencer on a ship to the Americas scheduled to sail after the ball. If the traitors feel they have time for their rendezvous, they will not send any men away to chase after you; every traitor’s presence is pertinent.”

  “We had best be wary, sir,” Mary warned. “Lady Kerr will be incensed and looking for us. She will have known to come to London.”

  Charles nodded. “Noted. Remain alert and watch for tails. Inform me if you notice anything suspicious.”

  “Yes, sir,” Mary and Gabe said in unison.

  Charles moved to stand, but Mary reached toward him, halting his movement.

  “My pardon, Hydra, but I must speak to you about a young lady I met at Kerr House.”

  Charles waited for her to continue.

  “She acted as my lady’s maid while we were in attendance. She is smart, capable, young, eager to learn, and in desperate need of rescuing. Lord Kerr and his cronies do unspeakable things—”

  Charles raised his hand. He knew what she was going to say and he did not wish to hear it. It was a pitiful state for many young maids under their masters’ control. “Can you vouch for this young lady, Mary?”

  “I can, Hydra. I will. Her name is Eleanor Mable.”

  He nodded. “Is she receptive to our position in the Secret Service?”

  Mary worried her bottom lip. “She does not yet know, sir.”

  “Very well.” Charles understood and respected her desire to get the young woman out of such a circumstance. “I’ll arrange for her withdrawal and transport. She can make a decision when she comes to London.”

  “Of course, sir.” Mary beamed at him.

  “Send a messenger ‘round the town house when she arrives.”

  Mary clasped her hands together at her chest. “Oh, I will! Thank you, Hydra!”

  “Not at all, Mary. Now, I must bid you both farewell.” He placed his hat upon his head and nodded toward the door leading into the next room toward the main tavern. “I have a miniature Mary to have a talk with. We’ll see if the lass has a future in the Secret Service, as well. If so, I’ll send her to Hermes at the school.”

  Gabriel grinned. “But when you do, Hydra, refer to him as Colonel Kieran Richards, if you will. No need to frighten the waif.”

  Charles laughed. “Indeed.” With that, he turned on his heel and quietly left the room.

  Chapter 34

  “Are ye ready?” Gabe pressed his lips to the side of Mary’s neck as she gazed at her reflection in her dressing table’s reflective glass, several days later.

  The fluttering reawakening of burgeoning desire worked its way through her as Gabe continued to kiss a path up to the dangling pearl earring hanging from her ear.

  She batted his hand away. “Naughty man,” she scolded. “I only just managed to finish putting myself back together from your last eager bout of lovemaking. I haven’t the time to do so again.”

  He gazed at her reflection with a wicked grin. “Just once more, lass. I will make it quick. And I promise no’ te touch yer pretty hair.”

  She clucked her tongue and winked. “Shame on you, Gabe. We have a busy evening and I cannot be late.”

  His smile fled as he pushed away from her chair to pace her modestly appointed bedchamber in Charles’ second house in town.

  “I donnae like this, Mary.”

  She finished applying her powder and turned to face Gabe. “You have said as much before, Gabriel, but I am a spy, and this is my assignment. I must follow through.”

  He rushed to her with exaggerated dramatic flair, falling to his knees and gripping her hands tightly in his. “Ach, Mary, donnae hurt me so! Donnae be a spy any longer. Flee with me! We can go te—”

  Mary laughed. “I am not certain, but I think that might be treasonous.” She pulled her hands from his and rose to retrieve her long, emerald green silk scarf, then draped it over her shoulders. “I am going on this assignment, Gabe. All will be well. I am perfectly capable of handling myself, I assure you.”

  He sighed and stood, leaning a hip against her dressing table and crossing his arms across his chest. “Verra well. Do ye have yer pistol?”

  “In my reticule.”

  “Yer knife?”

  “You know very well that it is strapped to my thigh.”

  His gaze heated. “Show me.”

  She shook her finger at him. “For shame, Gabriel! Now dirty your face, for heaven’s sake. You are far too clean for a coachman.”

  He moved to sit in her place at the dressing table, but something caught his eye and he hesitated.

  “My God…” he said in wonder.

  She followed his gaze and knew immediately what he’d seen, and she cursed herself for bringing it to the safe house, but she couldn’t resist. She’d missed it during her days on assignment.

  Mary’s cheeks heated embarrassingly, high on her cheekbones. Goodness, displaying her body for men to see did not cause her to blush, but this did? How silly of her.

  She turned her gaze away and busied herself with gazing in her tall mirror as he picked up an item from atop her chest of drawers.

  “Ye still have this conch shell, Mary?” he asked quietly.

  She could feel his gaze at her back, but she refused to return it. She knew what she would find there, but it oddly left her feeling afraid. Somehow her secrets seemed to be revealing themselves, suddenly splayed out in the open for him to see…the long-buried softness in her heart for the boy who had given her the gift and the man who had abandoned her, taking her crushed heart with him. And it terrified her.

  Nervous anxiety coiled itself in her stomach, fluttering and wavering with uncertainty. She knew that he found her desirable but didn’t return her regard…her love. He hadn’t said so, and she daren’t broach he subject. It would scare him away, and now that she had him positively in her life, she couldn’t risk losing him. Again.

  “How… Why? Ye’ve kept this all these years, Mary?”

  She knew what he wished to hear from her, but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t say the words.

  Spinning to face him and running her fingers along the long string of pearls at her neck, she forced an airy smile. “Yes, I have. I think it’s pretty. Now, will you please finish getting yourself ready?”

  He very obviously wished to say more, his judicious gaze seemingly seeing through her veil of fear, but he wisely took a seat at her dressing table and began to apply oil to his hair and soot to his face. He was already attired accordingly in a worn, brown woollen coat and match
ing vest and breeches. Each article of clothing was appropriately scuffed and marked. He had spent the days since their return to London growing mutton chops specifically for his role at the ball.

  He thought they looked rather dashing, but Mary preferred his face clean and—oh pooh. Who was she kidding? She thought him handsome no matter what his choice of facial hair. Handsome, muscled, bold, talented, kind, and oh, so arousing!

  The past four days had been spent lying abed with him in one bout of lovemaking after another, with sleep and long, leisurely talks in between. She wished she could remain there with him forever, simply taking him over and over again.

  She felt a heated flush begin under her layers of petticoats, chemise, corset, and green silk, and bit the inside of her cheek. Now was not the time to become distracted.

  She scooped up her green, beaded reticule and slid her matching slippers on her feet.

  Tonight would be simple. She had attended several balls in disguise and knew what was expected of her. This evening she was Miss Mary White. Actress and inveterate flirt.

  “Success?” Gabe stood before her, his gaze hopeful, yet also full of pride. He was a dirty mess of a man, which was precisely the object.

  Mary smiled at him. “Perfect.”

  He bowed deeply to her. “Your carriage awaits. Shall I escort you, Miss White?”

  “Why yes, kind coachman. Thank you.” She winked at him as she placed her gloved hand atop his dirty coat sleeve.

  He led her through the corridors and down the stairs to the foyer. No one stood on guard at the door, so Gabe pulled it open before leading her down the steps and to their awaiting carriage.

  Gratefully, the sky was clear and the night was cool, the lamps along the cobblestone street lending a deceptively peaceful ambiance to the otherwise perilous thoroughfares.

  Gabe helped her into the carriage that sat awaiting them on the street, then climbed onto the perch, clasped the reins, and set it into motion. With each clip-clop of the horses’ hooves and the loud rumble of the carriage’s wheels over stone, they drew closer to Maison Sheffield.